


Hetalia Extravaganza 2018

by aph_pasta



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Lots of Cute Stuff, M/M, Prompt Challenge, transtalia, week of hetalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aph_pasta/pseuds/aph_pasta
Summary: All my fics from the Hetalia Extravaganza week. Prompts and characters are in titles.





	1. High School/College (Lithuania/Nyo!Poland)

“Come on Toris, you promised me one slow dance,”

 

He sighs and nods, letting Iszabella take his hands and pull him out onto the dance floor. Of course, he can’t help but get distracted by every little thing he notices about her. The pink glitter on her dress is sparkling in the light reflected off the disco ball. She’s smiling, trying to keep her lips pressed together to hide her braces, but she’s just so happy that her entire smile comes through. Toris thinks it’s beautiful.

 

Toris doesn’t know how to dance, but that doesn’t matter because Iszabella just seems more focused on the fact that they’re together. Her arms are around his neck, and it’s a little awkward because her high heels make her slightly taller than him, but he doesn’t mind because he can look right into her eyes. She smells like strawberries and bubblegum and when Toris closes his eyes and the gap between their lips, she tastes like that too. 

 

Even after the music stops, neither one of them makes a move to pull away. Toris keeps one of his hands on Iszabella’s waist, but the other moves to caress her cheek and gently stroke her hair, careful not to mess up the braids she’d carefully tied back with a pink ribbon.

 

What finally pulls them apart is the sound of someone tapping a microphone twice to test it before starting to speak. “It’s time to announce the homecoming royal court! For freshmen, we have…”

 

Iszabella turns back to Toris because she couldn’t care less about who wins those titles. She knows it won’t be her, has known since she mentioned in the ninth grade and again a few weeks back that they would never elect a trans girl as homecoming queen. It will probably be Erzsebet, because she’s beautiful and popular, and she’ll be glad for her because she is one of her closest friends.

 

“And our homecoming queen is Iszabella Łukasiewicz!”

 

She wonders if this is a joke, or if she’s gone too far into her head and her daydreams. People are clapping around her and she steps closer to Toris, who gently nudges her arm. “That’s you,” he mouths, and she knows he’d never lie to her. 

 

Iszabella’s legs tremble a little as she walks up to the student council president. He puts down the microphone and picks up a sash, a shade of pink darker than her dress. Before she knows it she’s wearing the sash and has a plastic tiara on her head, clipped into her braids. People are applauding once more and eventually she stops feeling frozen and manages a little curtsey. Iszabella’s smile is even wider as she returns to Toris’s side.

 

The music starts again and she turns back to him, blinking a few times to clear the happy-tears at the corners of her eyes. “How did that happen? I wasn’t even on the ballot!” she asks.

 

Toris winks and tilts his head to the side, towards where their group of friends is sitting. “We thought you deserved the same chance that all the other girls in the school have to be homecoming queen, so we got student council to put you on the ballot. They gave you a different one to vote with, since we wanted it to be a surprise if you got elected.”

 

He can barely finish his sentence because Iszabella hugs him as tightly as she can, pulling him into a kiss as well. “Best surprise ever,” she murmurs, before leaning in to kiss him again.

  
  



	2. Cardverse (Hungary/Poland)

Erzsebet is more beautiful than the night sky. Her eyes are galaxies, swirls of stars, and her hair shimmers like moonlight. Feliks knew she was a queen before she even told him her title, because she had a regal air about her, like she was meant to lead. When she’s dressed to the nines with a crown on her head and jewels on her neck, she’s even more beautiful.

 

Feliks wants to take her hand and walk her to her throne. He wants to kneel and kiss her knuckles and trace the clubs embroidered on her sleeves. He wants to slip a ring on her finger and promise that he will be hers forever.

 

Erzsebet belongs to someone else, and it breaks his heart.

 

She complains about her husband often, about his fragility and laziness disguised as elegance. She complains that he spends more time with his piano than he does with her. She complains about being a queen, because to her the life of a joker is more appealing. She hides her crown and dresses only in petticoats, and begs Feliks to take her away from there.

 

They leave on horseback, kicking up avalanches of the snow the Kingdom of Clubs is so famous for. They cross the mountains of the Kingdom of Diamonds, wade through the rivers of the Kingdom of Hearts, and stow away on cargo ships that carry them through the Kingdom of Spades. 

 

When the kingdoms end and they’re on what has to be the edge of the world, Feliks slides off his horse and holds up his hand to take Erzsebet’s. They stand together on the prairie, wind blowing their hair about, and she slides the ring off her finger, turning it over in her hands.

 

“I don’t belong to anything anymore. No kingdom, no husband, no stupid arranged marriage. I’m free now, and you are too,” she throws the ring as hard as she can, watching it bounce twice against the ground before settling into the grass. 

 

Feliks smiles and steps forward, so his face is just inches away from Erzsebet’s. “As it should be.”


	3. Free Day (Hungary/Nyo!Poland)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of Dog Day Afternoon and Rosa's backstory from OITNB.

“We kiss before, we kiss again after,” Iszabella waits until her wife nods to acknowledge that she’d heard before her hands return to the steering wheel. They’d gone over the plan hundreds, if not thousands of times in the past few weeks. Iszabella would drop Erzsebet off two blocks from the bank. Then, she’d drive around to the front entrance, park in the lot, and wait. 

 

As she approaches the spot where she would leave Erzsebet, Iszabella starts to feel nervous and turns once more to face her before she leaves, lips curled into a frown. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”

 

“I promise, Izzy, I know what I’m doing,” her expression is serious for a moment before turning to a mischievous grin. “Now where’s my before kiss?”

 

Iszabella places one hand on the back of Erzsebet’s neck, fingers tracing the soft strands of hair too short to go up in her ponytail. She leans forward at the waist, seatbelt straining against her chest, and closes her eyes as Erzsebet meets her in the middle. They’re passionate, but it’s quick, and before Iszabella can say that she wants another kiss, the car door opens and her girlfriend is gone.

 

She does as she’s been told to and starts the car once more, circling around the block before turning into the parking lot in front of the bank. Iszabella parks as close to the entrance as she can, then turns the car off and waits.

 

It’s agonizing.

 

Erzsebet’s weapon of choice is a sword. It’s a short one, held in a pocket she sewed into her dress just for this, and she is very sure she knows how to use it. Of course, she has a gun as well, but only plans on using it if something goes wrong. She puts on a pair of sunglasses big enough to hide her face and when she walks in the bank, she just seems like any other customer.

 

It’s funny, really, because she absolutely isn’t any other customer.

 

As she stands in the line, waiting for the text that confirms the security systems are down and the doors locked externally, her thoughts wander to Iszabella. After all, she’s the entire reason she’s doing this. When her phone buzzes, Erzsebet is brought back and checks the message quickly to make sure everything is going according to plan, then steps out of the line and pulls the sword from her skirt.

 

“Everyone on your knees on the ground, hands behind your head!” she holds the sword in front of her and changes her stance, ready to swing at any resistance from those in the bank. At first, people try to leave and the tellers frantically press alarm buttons, but they eventually realize that she’s really thought this through and isn’t just a crazy lady running around with a sword. The customers drop to their knees one after the other, falling silent and looking fearfully up at her.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

 

Erzsebet spins around and glares at the teller who spoke up. She doesn’t immediately respond, just steps forward and slides the tip of her sword under the gold necklace the teller is wearing. “This is really pretty. You know, I think it might look even prettier on my wife. Yeah, gold is definitely her color,” she quickly snaps her sword back, breaking the clasp of the necklace. It hangs off the end of the sword and Erzsebet draws it back towards herself so she can pluck the necklace off and put it in her pocket. “Any other questions?” she asks, and the teller closes her mouth and shakes her head.

 

“Okay, good. I want this to go quick and smooth, and I don’t plan on taking hostages or hurting anyone… as long as you all cooperate. I need 50,000 dollars. That’s what it costs for my wife to get gender reassignment surgery. You see, both of us have lots of student loans to pay off and at the moment I’m working two jobs, so that sort of thing isn’t really in the budget. But she’s my entire world and I will do anything to make her happy. Now, let’s see,” she walks down the line of desks, looking over the tellers huddled against the ground. “You. You’re going to count out the money for me, and you are going to flip through every stack of money and make sure you and I both can see that there are no dye packs inside,” Erzsebet points at one of the tellers, a small man who she knew she could easily overpower if need be. She motions with her hand for him to stand up and he does, visibly shaken as he opens the cash drawer and starts taking out stacks of bills.

 

Erzsebet watches intently as he fans out each stack before bundling it back up. Her sword is still drawn, and she occasionally uses it to lift a bill and make sure there is nothing hidden beneath it. Finally, the teller hands her the money and she stuffs it all into the crossbody bag she’s wearing. 

 

“Thank you. We really, really appreciate your generosity. Now, I promised no hostages or harm to anyone, and since no one caused any problems, I’m going through on that. In exactly thirty seconds, the front doors will unlock. Your security system will be back on in three minutes. Feel free to call the police and the FBI and everyone else then,” she grins, knowing that by then she and Iszabella will be on the highway, driving off toward freedom. Erzsebet slides her sword back into her pocket and walks over to the doors, standing in front of them until she hears a click and calmly opens one.

 

Iszabella leans over and opens the passenger door to the car. She watches Erzsebet’s pace change the minute the door to the bank closes and she runs to the car, a smile on her face.

 

“Did you do it?”

 

Erzsebet closes the door and Iszabella backs out, her heart pounding with excitement as she presses on the gas and drives out onto the street. “Yeah. Fifty-thousand dollars. And one of the people in there was being a smartass so I took her necklace for you too.”

 

“You’re the fucking best!”

 

They talk and laugh and sing along with the radio as Iszabella drives out of the city. As soon as she thinks they’re far away enough that no one will catch them, she finds a secluded part of road with a shoulder surrounded by trees and stops there. 

 

“Do I get my after kiss now?” Erzsebet asks. 

 

Iszabella winks and shakes her head. “Oh no, you’re getting way more than just a kiss.”


	4. Modern AU (Prussia/Poland)

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” Feliks mutters for what has to be the millionth time that day. He tentatively opens one of his eyes to glance down at his arm, before shutting it quickly.

 

“Jesus, Feliks, you’re too damn squeamish. It’s just a tattoo. You’ve done this what, five other times?”

 

“Actually I’ve done it six times, and that was all with a machine. I’d prefer that to having you stab me with a sewing needle any day.”

 

Gilbert rolls his eyes, and even though Feliks can’t actually see him do it, he knows that that is exactly what he’s doing. “Shut up, will you? It’s distracting and I’m going to make a mistake.”

 

Feliks’s eyes shoot open at this and he stares down at the tattoo, making sure everything looks right. Gilbert dips the needle back in the little layer of ink sitting at the bottom of a shot glass and gets back to work, pressing it into Feliks’s skin. He grimaces at the feeling, because even though he’s been poked so many times that his skin has numbed, everything is agonizingly slow.

 

Gilbert hums as he works, and Feliks occasionally makes comments about how if he isn’t allowed to talk, Gilbert shouldn’t be allowed to hum because he could distract himself. Every time he says something, he earns an extra hard poke with the needle, but he grits his teeth and sits through it. Even though he absolutely can’t stand Gilbert, he has to admit that he is the best tattoo artist he’s had so far, and he’s willing to deal with an hour or two of an insufferable personality if he comes out of it with a nice new piece. 

 

“You can open your eyes now.”

 

“And have to see you stab my arm some more? No thanks.”

 

Gilbert laughs and shakes his head. “I’m finished. I won’t stab you unless you piss me off.”

 

Feliks sighs and opens his eyes, tentatively at first and then more eagerly when he sees the finished piece. It’s a small paper airplane on the side of his wrist, something he chose as a reminder of how important travel was in his life. And it’s beautiful.

 

“You may be the most annoying asshole I’ve ever met, but you’re also totally the best tattoo artist I’ve ever met,” he says, smiling brightly.

 


	5. Superheroes (Lithuania/America)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt.

Toris was sure of what he wanted. He was sure that there was no place for him in the world, that everyone would be better without him. He was sure that not only would he be happier when he was gone, but his friends would too. Eduard and Raivis and Feliks. He was a huge burden on them, they would be better off without him.

 

He stepped up on to the cobblestones forming a small wall on the side of the bridge. There was water fifty, maybe sixty feet beneath him and he felt dizzy for a moment as he watched rapids crash against the jagged rocks jutting out of the river.

 

It was now or never, he decided, and spread his arms out like wings, shifting all his weight forward so he would fall. It felt amazing at first, with the wind blowing against his body and through his hair, but then fear suddenly gripped him as the ground came closer and closer every second.

 

He realized he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want his friends to have to see his broken body on the rocks and wish they’d noticed the signs that he was depressed. He didn’t want to leave behind the degree he’d been working so hard on or the dog he had at home. 

 

Toris felt a scream rising in his throat as he plummeted toward the inevitable. The rocks were getting closer and closer and he squeezed his eyes shut. If he was going to die, he didn’t want to watch it happen.

 

Just as he braced for impact, he felt himself floating, then being lifted into the air. Toris opened his eyes, blinking a few times as he watched the river beneath him fly farther and farther away. It took a few seconds to realize someone was holding him, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back.

 

It wasn’t long before he was placed back on his feet on the bridge and finally got to see whoever had saved him. The man was tall, with messy hair and a cowlick that stuck up in the front. He looked like any other person in his jeans and Nasa t-shirt, but Toris noticed that both of his arms were metal and the back of his shirt was torn where a pair of steel wings had burst through. The wings folded back in, a metal panel lifting so they could slip into the man’s back. 

 

Was this even a man? Toris had never seen a metal human before. His thoughts were racing, his legs still shaking from how scared he’d been. Or maybe he still was scared.

 

“I was really scared for a second there, thought I wouldn’t be fast enough. You’re alright now, though,” the man said. He smiled and Toris felt his fear melt away. “So what’s your name?”

 

“Toris.”

 

“Cool! Mine’s Alfred. But you can call me hero, since I saved you. Now I think the best thing to do is take you to the hospital. Then you can get the help you need. Come on, I’ll fly you there,” Alfred brought his wings out again, flexing the movable panels a few times. He stepped forward to pick up Toris again and he allowed himself to be lifted up, his breathing steadying as he was lifted into the air once more.


	6. Pirates/Mermaids (South Italy/Spain)

_ “And then there’s the ships that never come back. Hundreds of men go out to sea, never to be seen again. It’s the sirens that get them. They get close to an island and start hearing this singing, the most beautiful singing in the world. And then, they see the singers, with the torso and arms and head of the most beautiful women in the world and the tail of a fish. And when they sing, even the strongest of men can’t resist their call and they lose their minds over it. They wreck their ships when they crash into the island and are left stranded there until they starve to death.” _

 

_ Feliciano whimpered and hid his face behind his hands. “I don’t want the sirens to get me!” he whined, shaking his head. _

 

_ “You’re such a baby. It’s just a story, sirens aren’t real. It’s the kind of thing people make up to scare idiots like you,” Lovino replied. At eight years old, he had decided he was much, much smarter and more mature than his five year old brother. _

 

_ “But Nonno would never make anything up. Right Nonno?”  _

 

_ The boys’ grandfather just laughed, winking at Feliciano. _

 

___

 

Lovino hopped down from his position on the crow’s nest, balancing for a moment on the wooden pole beneath it before starting to climb down the rough rope of the shrouds. As soon as he was close enough to the ground to do so, he dropped the telescope he’d been holding and jumped down to the deck. 

 

“Good fucking work, captain. You’ve sailed us right into a storm, and we may have to take everything and everyone below deck if it gets any worse.”

 

The captain turned from where he stood at the wheel, a frown on his lips. “You must be mistaken. I specifically chose this route because no one has ever reported that it is dangerous or stormy.”

 

Lovino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well you’re wrong. I know what I saw, and I saw a storm.”

 

“Okay, so assuming we are on course for a storm, is it small enough that I can sail us around it, or do we have no choice but to go into it?”

 

“We have no choice but to go into it. The thing is huge, there’s dark sky as far as I could see and there was lightning everywhere.”

 

The captain frowned before walking away, going up to the stern to announce to the crew that they needed to prepare for a storm. 

 

Over the course of the next hour, the sails were adjusted and anything on deck that could be damaged by water was brought deep into the belly of the ship. The crew followed, only a few sailors staying above to help out as they sailed. Lovino was one of them, perched back in the crow’s nest and watching the storm come closer and closer, this time without the aid of a telescope.

 

When they reached it, there was a difference as drastic as night and day. Calm waters suddenly began to toss the ship as though it were a toy. Thunder boomed in Lovino’s ears, followed by the crack of lightning across the the sky. Rain poured from the heavens, forcing him to close his eyes against it’s relentless beating.

 

And then, the thunder gave way, to the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. The rain started to let up until it was a light drizzle and Lovino opened his eyes. A song filled his ears, in a strange language he’d never heard before but somehow understood every word of.

 

_ “I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, I can be your paradise. You just have to come to me.” _

 

Lovino raised the telescope to his eye and tried to search for the source of the music, but there was a thick fog obscuring everything around them. He strained his ears, gripping tighter onto the wooden beams of the ship.

 

_ “I promise you’ll be happy if you come to me. All your worries will be gone, you’ll always be cared for and loved.” _

 

The music was drawing him in. He could almost feel it tugging on his arms, on his chest, on his heart. Before he even realized what he was doing, Lovino had jumped down from the crow’s nest and was scrambling down the ropes, running over the deck to be closer to the song. Other men from the crew were crowded at the forecastle of the ship, leaning forward to get closer.

 

The bowspirit broke through the fog, and Lovino could see a rocky island in front of them. There were women lounging around, laying back with their hair around their heads in halos and arms opened wide, welcoming. They had tails and they shimmered with every flash of lightning that illuminated the sky. In the middle of them all was a man with dark, tanned skin and even darker hair. A crown of coral and sea stars sat upon his head and when he opened his mouth and joined the singing, Lovino lost anything that remained of his composure. He leapt off of the ship and into the murky water. It chilled him to the bone but he couldn’t feel it in comparison to the fire the song kindled inside him. 

 

Lovino began to swim, propelling himself through the water. Towards that voice, toward the promises it held, to the fish-man who seemed to be tugging on his heart and reeling him in.


	7. Historical Hetalia (America/Russia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meant to take place sometime after the space race.

“Well would you look at that!” Ivan turns to see his American colleague, Alfred, staring out the laboratory window. For a moment, he contemplates ignoring him, but curiosity gets the best of him and he velcroes his clipboard to the workstation so it won't float off and pushes off from the counter to float over to Alfred's side.

 

“You interrupted my work to have me look at the Earth?” Ivan shakes his head and presses a palm against his temple. There's no denying that the view from the space station is beautiful, but he can see it anytime he wants. 

 

“Not just to ‘look at the Earth’. Look at the way it's positioned. We're looking head-on at Europe and Africa, which means that nighttime just started in Russia and is finishing up in America. We're watching an entire day starting and end. It's starting for me and it's ending for you.”

 

Ivan opens his mouth to point out the flawed logic, but stops himself. Alfred has a point. And besides, the Earth really is beautiful.


End file.
